Chapter 2
Although she regretted her betrothed’s departure, Elizabeth ambled back to the house with a smile upon her lips.
She had noticed a slight anxiety in his manner, but supposed her future husband was merely disappointed by her refusal to accompany him to London.
Barely returned from Meryton after an enjoyable morning spent with Miss Darcy, she hurried to her room, pausing on the way to give her father a loving kiss.
With a broad smile upon his face, Mr Bennet watched the door long after she had left the room.
He loved all his daughters, but he cared deeply for Elizabeth, who had been, throughout the years, his greatest consolation for not having a son.
He regretted losing her, as any father would in such circumstances.
In recent years, he had lived in constant fear that his wife and five daughters might suffer a terrible fate should he die.
With the estate entailed upon Mr Collins and little means of supporting themselves respectably, marriage remained the only hope for his daughters.
Mr Bennet had never liked his cousin and had, years before, had several disappointing discussions with old Mr Collins that convinced him to expect nothing good from the heir presumptive.
He suspected he would show little generosity towards the Bennet ladies.
Besides Elizabeth’s evident love for her future husband, so amply returned, he took comfort in knowing that most of his worries would disappear as soon as his dear daughter married an honourable man.
“Mr Bennet,” Mrs Bennet had said only the previous day, “I know your past worries very well, but for now, be happy that two of our daughters will marry into wealth, real wealth. Mr Bingley is an admirable gentleman with a handsome income, whilst Mr Darcy is even more so. Not like some of our neighbours, who boast of money they do not really possess.”
“Will marry,” he corrected, with the familiar touch of sarcasm so characteristic of him. “Neither of them is married yet, and Heaven knows how much we want them to be.”
“Hmm!” Mrs Bennet replied, gently tapping his forearm with her fan.
“I must observe that these recent happy events have not entirely changed your gloomy nature. Of course, they are not married yet, but the auspices are marvellous, and the young gentlemen are very much in love with both of them. You may put your fears to rest and be certain that neither Elizabeth nor Jane will forget us when they are mistresses of their own estates.”
That had been one of the rare occasions on which they had discussed the future so openly.
Even more unusual was hearing Mr Bennet admit his fears and acknowledge that marriage was the only real solution for their daughters.
Their roles had been unexpectedly reversed, and Mrs Bennet was only too happy to reassure him.
“You will see, Mr Bennet, that our life will soon be well settled with two wealthy daughters. Kitty and even Mary will have other prospects as soon as their sisters are married. But enough now,” she continued energetically. “I have plenty of work to do. Still, it was lovely talking to you, sir.”
Happy that both Elizabeth and Jane had found true love and respectable gentlemen, Mr Bennet longed to see his two favourite daughters married more than anyone else, for he knew only too well how much could still happen to put their futures in jeopardy.
A small quarrel between lovers could do more damage than a war.
He preferred to have Elizabeth and Jane at home, away from their future husbands, until the happy day arrived.
At least, that was what he declared to Mrs Bennet.
Deep in his heart, however, he wished to have them around him every moment during the weeks to come, for he realised these were the last days they would spend together as a family.
After their marriages, they would be more wives than daughters.
It was the way of the world, but it was painful for any parent to accept.
“You are right, my dear,” he said. “Let us see the brighter side of our present life! And I am so grateful that neither of them married my cousin, Mr Collins!”
Mrs Bennet nodded with a satisfied expression upon her face, for once perfectly content with her life. Jane and Elizabeth had indeed done far better than Mr Collins. Vast estates, carriages, and a happy life in London were what she had always wanted for them, and now her dreams were coming true.
∞∞∞
“Better than my dreams,” Mrs Bennet liked to say in those days to anyone who would listen.
She could not imagine anything disastrous happening now that they were so close to those happy events.
Elizabeth would be a bride in a couple of weeks, and soon afterwards her sweet Jane would follow.
The house was full of silk, lace, and ribbons; they eagerly consulted the Journal des Dames et des Modes, arrived from London, which inspired the ladies of the ton with the latest dresses, hats, and hairstyles.
Her daughters would be dressed like the ladies of London, with no financial restrictions, thanks to their husbands’ consistent incomes.
She wondered why Mr Bennet was still worried.
What could possibly happen now? She dismissed her husband’s concerns in her usual manner, with an exaggerated sweep of her hand.
Yet, lying awake in bed that night, she found herself unable to sleep because her husband’s foolish words, though without any real meaning, would not leave her mind.
They are not yet married.
The words kept returning to her again and again.
She resented Mr Bennet for his caution. He could never simply be happy, and he had a talent for passing all his gloomy thoughts on to her.
What could possibly happen? Although the question had no real foundation in their present circumstances, it brought back memories of events she happened to know about.
She remembered long-forgotten tragedies: a future bridegroom killed in an accident only hours before the wedding; another, the son of a distant cousin, who left his bride at the altar without a single word of warning.
And how could she forget Charles Wilson, the son of a dear friend from St Albans, who announced a week before his wedding that he intended to become a Catholic monk?
Those were only some of the disasters she knew of.
Anything could happen. Mr Bennet was right, and she had to devote herself to guarding her daughters’ future husbands until they were safely led to the altar.
A new determination could be seen on her face by the time she finally fell asleep.
∞∞∞
“Jane, dear,” she asked first thing at breakfast, “where is your Mr Bingley these days?”
Jane glowed in all her splendour, not a crease upon her forehead as she answered, “He is at Netherfield. I have news from him every day.”
She coloured, as his letters were sometimes a little too intimate. He often repeated how much he loved her, referring to the kisses she eagerly gave him and describing their life after marriage.
I shall wait for you, my love, before redecorating both our bedrooms to your liking, although I am sure we shall often share only one, Mr Bingley had written only the day before, with more determination than he usually displayed. It seemed he had developed a new attitude towards their future life.
“Is he alone there, or is his family with him?”
It was no secret that his sisters, Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, were far from pleased about the marriage, and they might exert an undesirable influence upon him so close to the wedding.
“He has some friends and family with him: Miss Darcy, and his cousin Mr Acton and his mother,” Jane replied in the same happy mood.
“As his sisters have decided not to help him with the wedding preparations, Mr Acton and his mother are helping him with everything concerning the estate and…the ceremony,” she added with the radiant smile that always appeared whenever she spoke of the approaching wedding.
“And who is this Mr Acton? Do you know him?”
“Yes, Mama. He is the son of old Mr Bingley’s sister. A very respectful and devoted young gentleman.”
Jane was as serene as an angel, seeing none of the dangers around her.
At least, for now, he is under no evil influence and can devote himself entirely to his love for Jane. But I need to find out more about this Mr Acton, Mrs Bennet thought as she turned to Elizabeth.
“And your future husband?” she asked, placing particular emphasis on future husband to remind her daughter, and anyone else who might be listening, that Mr Darcy, the master of Pemberley no less, had given his word and was honour-bound to keep it.
“He is in London, Mama. You know that.”
“He is still in London?” cried Mrs Bennet. “Why is he in London? Should he not be preparing for the wedding?”
Elizabeth looked at her mother with uneasiness in her eyes. Was something wrong? Had her mother, with her endless sources of gossip, heard something?
“Yes, he is still in London,” she answered despondently. “He left two days ago to attend to some business. He wanted me to accompany him and stay with Mrs Gardiner, but I said no. I have so many things to do here.”
Her mother was no longer listening. She became so agitated that even Mr Bennet raised his eyes from the journal he was reading.
“What are you saying? He is in London alone, and you refused to accompany him? We could have gone with you.”
Her strange tone and the long look she fixed upon her daughter were enough to alarm Elizabeth.
Her mother must know something. She tried to remember Darcy’s departure.
Had he looked at her or simply ridden away without a glance?
All she could remember was the sight of him sitting proudly upon his horse, her heart racing with pride as she admired him.
He was her betrothed. Yet now those moments seemed strangely blurred, and she could remember nothing else.
She had not even asked what business had taken him to London…
because she trusted him. Suddenly, Elizabeth wondered whether her mother knew something that ought to concern her.
Mrs Bennet had a tendency to panic, well known to all her daughters, but for the moment she did not seem on the verge of one of her usual crises. Yet her calmness was equally alarming.
Was something happening that she knew nothing about?
Elizabeth followed Mrs Bennet to her room, hoping no one would follow them. She leaned against the open door, catching her breath, while her mother, seated before her dressing table, looked at her in the mirror.
“Yes, dear, what has happened?”
She seemed even calmer than she had been at breakfast.
Elizabeth’s anxiety grew to the point that she could hardly find the right words, something most unusual for the young lady who had always had a sharp reply.
“Mama, is there something you want to tell me? Have you heard something?” she asked with evident distress.
“About what, my dear?” Mrs Bennet asked, turning to face Elizabeth, for the whole situation seemed most peculiar.
“About Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth burst out. “Do you know anything about Mr Darcy?” she repeated as her mother looked at her, surprised and quieter than usual.
“What could I possibly know? Except what you have just told me, that he has gone to London and you refused to join him. I am merely surprised that he should leave now, when there is so much still to prepare, and even more surprised that you did not go with him. It would have been a good opportunity to meet his relatives and become acquainted with some of them. I mean the ladies, for they might prove dangerous to a young bride who has spent most of her life in the country. Just look at Mr Bingley’s sisters… ”
“Mama,” Elizabeth interrupted rather impolitely, “please tell me whether you know anything about Mr Darcy that might concern me…before the wedding.”
Searching her mother’s face, Elizabeth looked for the slightest sign of distress.
Yet after only a few moments, seeing her mother’s peaceful expression, she recovered her composure.
Mrs Bennet was incapable of concealing anything.
She was always eager to share even the smallest, most insignificant piece of gossip.
Her serene eyes and gentle smile convinced Elizabeth that everything was as it should be.
Yet, strangely enough, her uneasiness did not disappear. Perhaps she simply missed him, but she certainly regretted not having made the journey to London.
When two days passed without any news, Elizabeth’s slight uneasiness grew into turmoil, becoming stronger than her love or even her confidence in Darcy.
Suddenly, she found herself wondering what he was doing in London.
What business had taken him there? Would he go to parties or the theatre without her?
She knew she was being unreasonable, yet she could not stop.
Horrible dreams even began to trouble her, filling her sleep with visions of Darcy surrounded by beautiful ladies, all seeking his favour.
An icy claw gripped her heart whenever she imagined him in the company of fashionable women, for she knew that in London many of them would resort to any ruse to win a man.
London? What are you saying, Elizabeth? she thought. You have tormented yourself to madness. Everywhere, women try to capture eligible bachelors, and a previous engagement is no obstacle to many of them. A message will surely calm you.
Whenever they had been apart before, even for a short time, they had exchanged messages or sometimes long letters.
It was nothing but a game between lovers, yet it showed how much their love had flourished and how great their hopes for the future had become.
Now, although she went to the front door a hundred times a day, not a single word came from him.
She tried to be reasonable, knowing that messages from London could sometimes be delayed.
Still, his letters had always arrived no more than a day apart, often even more frequently.
Darcy was always eager to please her, and he knew that a letter, or even a short loving message, was something Elizabeth treasured.
To her, his true jewels were his character and his love.
Unlike many other young women, she cherished the intangible world of feelings far more than material things.
And then, all at once, in the midst of their happiness, after she had finally accepted that she was going to be his wife, London answered her only with silence.